


Hospital Corners

by dalida



Series: Lucky [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mild Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalida/pseuds/dalida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a sobering event, Oliver and Felicity reflect on their lives and are forced to assess the state of their newfound relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos on my last posts! Sorry it’s taken me so long to update. 
> 
> What started as a cute, short fic became angsty and got out of control. I split it where I felt it was most natural and will post the next chapter tomorrow.

Oliver bounded up the creaky staircase in excitement. He had just spoken to Thea after a week of silence on her end, and he wanted to share news of the team with Felicity.

He paused at the sight that greeted him inside their bedroom. Felicity was propped up on all fours on their king-sized bed. Her head and upper body were trapped under a large white sheet, and her round ass wiggled enticingly at him as she struggled with it. He’d never tell, but the black yoga pants she loved to wear at home were slightly see-through in the light, and he could see the outline of her polka-dotted panties against her pale skin. 

A noise of frustration from her pulled him out of his thoughts. Suddenly aware of his dry mouth and open jaw, he shut it quickly and stepped towards her. He saw that she was trying to smooth out their rolled-up quilt under its cover. A roughly folded stack of sheets sat on their chaise, and a tangled fitted sheet was abandoned on the floor next to the bed.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

“Oh,” she startled and began crawling out backwards from her place on the bed. She emerged from under the sheet with disheveled hair and glasses perched crookedly on her nose.

“Hi,” he smiled fondly at the sight of her.

“Hi.” 

“What are you doing?"

“I can’t get the comforter straight under the cover. It keeps rolling up.” Her full lower lip stuck out in a cute pout.

His smile grew. She was so adorable that he couldn’t resist taking her forlorn face between his hands and pecking her nose. 

“Why don’t I help you?"

He helped her from the bed and, together, they each took a side of the quilt. She held one end while he shook it out from the other.

“Oh my god, how did you do that?"

“If you just shake it out a bit, it straightens itself."

Next, he picked up the fitted sheet from the floor and gave her one corner.

“Fitted sheets are the bane of my existence. The elastic is supposed to help keep it in place, but every time I get a new corner under the mattress, the other side just slips off again.” She rambled as she tucked one corner and held it in place while he worked on the others. Eventually, she gave up and left him to the task as she stood by the chaise and watched.

"And don’t get me started on hospital corners. What are you supposed to do will all the extra bits? Why can’t I just shove them under the mattress?"

He took up the big white sheet she was struggling with earlier and lay it out on the bed. Methodically, he folded and tucked each corner neatly. 

“I mean,” she waved her hands in the air as she explained, "I know the theory behind it, but it’s hard to put it into practice. "

He straightened out the comforter, placed their pillows at the head of the bed, and began arranging the  decorative cushions in front of them. Soon, he had the bed looking like a picture from a catalogue.

He turned to face Felicity, who seemed impressed by his handiwork.

"Where’d you learn to do hospital corners, anyway?” she asked.

“In a hospital."

“Really?” she stared incredulously at him.

“No,” he laughed. "I watched a Youtube video."

“Hmm. I thought you were about to tell me you learnt from a sexy nurse."

“Well, I don’t know any nurses, but I do know a sexy woman who likes to play doctor with me from time to time,” he teased.

“Really?” she smirked, raising her eyebrows.

“Mhmm.” He pulled her to him by the waist and smoothed his hands over the small of her back.

She lifted her face to him and leaned closer, “Tell me about her."

She squealed when he picked her up suddenly and dumped her unceremoniously on the bed, sending the pillows and cushions flying. 

“Oliver!” she complained, "I spent all morning fixing the bed."

“ _You_?” he asked with feigned indignance. 

“Yes, _me_!"

He attacked, tickling her sides and the sensitive skin of her neck as she giggled and begged for mercy.

• • •

“Aaah!"

Oliver heard a scream through the open window. Alarmed, he leaped out of bed, still groggy from sleep, and hurried down the stairs, taking them three at a time. He berated himself for not noticing her absence sooner. Lucky rushed at him and barked when he reached the landing, running back the way he had come.

Following, Oliver ran out the back door at breakneck speed, distantly hearing the screen door slam against its frame behind him. From the moment he recognised her scream, he had developed tunnel vision. He couldn’t see or hear anything with clarity until he spotted her writhing on the dry grass under the ageing cottonwood tree, clutching her right arm to her chest in pain. 

He ran to her side and picked her up, cradling her small body and shielding it with his. He glanced around the yard, assessing it for threats. He cursed himself for being so careless with her safety. He had let his guard down, lulling himself into believing that all was well in this small town. It was stupid and reckless, creating a perfect opportunity for his enemies to strike.

Failing to see any immediate threats or anything out of place, he gazed down at Felicity. His hand was at the back of her head and he had pressed her face against the side of his neck in his urgency. He could feel her hot tears on his skin, and he pulled her away to look at her. Her face was set and determined, but her eyes were swimming with tears and she sniffled softly. He could tell she was trying to put on a brave face.

"What happened, baby?” he asked, gently wiping tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

“I was trying to get the frisbee out of the tree and I fell.” Her voice was low and quiet. She looked down at her arm with a sombre expression. "I think I broke it."

“Here, let me see."

He took her arm delicately, stretching it out slowly and muttering an apology when she winced. It was alarmingly misshapen, but apart from a few scratches the skin was intact and there was no bleeding.

“Okay, let’s grab your jacket and I’ll take you to the ER.”

He cradled her face in his hands again and placed a kiss to her salty, tear-streaked cheek. “It’ll be okay.” 

He led her inside and into the kitchen, pulling out a chair for her to sit on. He took a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and, wrapping it in a dishcloth, pressed it against her arm. “Hold this. I’ll be right back."

He ran upstairs, finding her red wool coat in their closet along with his own brown leather jacket. 

It was a warm day, and she was dressed for it in denim shorts and a white t-shirt, but he knew the hospital would be cold, and there was no telling how long they’d have to sit in the waiting room until they were seen.

An hour later, Felicity's arm was set in a cast. It was a simple break but would still take weeks to heal. They sat in the thankfully quiet hospital, waiting for their discharge papers. Felicity leaned heavily against him. Without her glasses, she looked small and pale. She had refused any pain medication, but was exhausted and struggling to sit upright without his help. 

Apart from the initial pain, she had seemed excited about her first broken bone. She even managed to joke about it with the attending doctor and nurses who walked through the ER. 

She had taken quite a fall, close to 15 feet. He was surprised she had made it up that far in the first place. He thought about cutting down the tree, or trimming the lower branches so she couldn’t climb it again, before berating himself for thinking about treating her like a child. She wouldn’t be pleased with that. Even the way he had reacted when he found her earlier was dangerously transparent. 

Now, she looked up at him with a playful pout.

He sighed and finally asked, “What’s on your mind?"

“I wanted a sexy nurse,” she mumbled.

He laughed for the first time since seeing her lying curled up in the yard that afternoon.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he quipped.

“Hmm?” she tilted her head at him in confusion.

“It looks like I’ll be playing nurse with you for a change."

Felicity was discharged from the hospital without ceremony. Oliver arranged her carefully on the passenger seat of the car, propping her tired neck up with his balled-up jacket. She was exhausted and had difficulty walking, but didn’t seem to be losing consciousness any time soon.

He glanced at her quiet form on the drive home, the sunset painting a spectrum of colours across the early evening sky behind her. She didn’t protest when he carried her out of the car and into the house. He lay her on the couch with the cushions under her head and helped her out of the sling, elevating her arm with a pillow instead.

“Should we order some pizza for dinner?” he asked.

“Mmm,” she replied tiredly, eyes closed.

He turned on the TV and settled on some old sitcom, muting the audio, before walking to the kitchen and calling the local delivery place for a pepperoni pizza. 

He found a bottle of wine and uncorked it, leaving it on the counter for the moment while he retrieved two glasses. He figured it would help her relax, and it was safe enough considering she hadn’t taken any meds.

He had left the back door wide open in his haste that afternoon, and the screen door was shut yet unlocked. He opened it now, finding Lucky curled up on the back step. He pulled out a box of kibble from the pantry, pouring some into Lucky’s bowl, but the dog ignored him and passed through the kitchen to the living room. 

He watched from the doorway as Lucky sat before Felicity and placed his head on her thigh, whining pitifully. Felicity stroked his fur with her good hand and scratched behind his ears but remained silent for the most part.

She had been alarmingly sombre since their drive home, and he didn’t want to spook her.

He placed two glasses of red wine on the coffee table and Felicity took hers wordlessly. He made some space on the couch, lifting her bare feet into his lap and rubbing them gently.

“Want me to put on a movie?” he asked.

“No, I like this.” She refused to look at him, staring at the silent TV instead.

The normally excitable Lucky seemed to pick up on the mood and remained unmoving at Felicity’s side until their pizza arrived.

He managed to convince her to eat one slice before she drained her wine glass and lay back on the couch. Lucky complained at him until he picked a few slices of pepperoni from the pizza and fed them to him. Sighing, he cleared the coffee table and set the leftovers on the kitchen counter.

Oliver didn’t understand where her morosity had come from. He knew he had alarmed her with his panicked actions, and he decided that her earlier levity at the hospital must have been for his benefit. 

He didn’t know what to do. His instinct was to shelter and protect her from harm, but how could he protect her from her own thoughts? Felicity was a highly perceptive person, he knew, and he had revealed so much to her so plainly today.

“Oliver.”

Her quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked and turned to face her, “Yeah, baby?"

“I’m tired. I’m going to go to sleep.” She stood and replaced the cushions on the couch.

“Okay, let me help you clean up.”

He reached for her, but she recoiled from him.

“It’s okay. I can go myself,” she said, before turning and walking away.

He followed her up the stairs, hot on her heels, past their bedroom and into the bathroom. She turned on him suddenly.

“I said I can do it myself,” she said sternly.

"I know,” he replied.

He cupped her face between his palms, and her gaze softened as she sighed.

“Please. Let me help you."

“Okay,” she muttered.

He lifted her onto the counter by the basin and ran some hot water, reaching for a small washcloth. They had cleaned her arm at the hospital, but she still had small scratches on her thighs and calves from climbing the rough-barked old tree. 

He silently unzipped her shorts, and she bore her weight on one hand while he pulled them down her legs and onto the floor. He ran the warm washcloth along her legs, starting at her feet and climbing up slowly, cleaning the dried blood and grime from her skin before wringing out the cloth and starting again. 

He continued for longer than was necessary, but her skin was so smooth under his hands and she didn’t complain. Eventually, he abandoned the cloth and slid his fingers up her thighs instead. Goosebumps rose at his touch, and she sighed heavily. Tentatively, he pressed his palm into her hot centre and she sighed again, leaning her head against his shoulder and widening her legs. 

Emboldened now, he stepped between her thighs and slipped his fingers into her panties. She was so wet.

"Shh, don’t think,” he said. "Just feel."

He turned his head and pressed kisses up her neck, licking the lobe of her ear into his mouth and sucking on it gently. Her breathing hitched, and he circled his fingers around her clit before dipping down to her opening. He didn’t enter her, but let his fingers tease and gather moisture before traveling back up to her clit. 

Her breaths became heavier, both from the thick steam billowing around them and from her arousal. His fingers picked up speed and he resumed licking and nibbling on her neck. She moaned when he bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and he laved the spot with his tongue. 

He pressed into her harder and faster, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and clutched him tightly. He gave her clit a sharp pinch and she clenched her trembling thighs, trapping his hand between them as she came with a low groan. 

He felt her hot tears on his skin for the second time that day. 

He worked her through her orgasm and ran a hand up and down her spine soothingly. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. "You had a long day.”

When she finally stopped trembling, he removed his hand from her panties and ran it under the hot water for a moment before shutting off the faucet.

Her arms were still wrapped around him in a death grip. He picked her up and walked them into the bedroom, pulling back the covers on the bed and setting her down. She refused to let go of him, even with her broken arm, so he slipped in with her and entwined their legs, holding her as tightly as she held him. 

He pressed his lips to her temple and ran his fingers through her silky hair. The light from the bathroom illuminated her troubled face. He kept stroking her hair and skin until he felt her heart rate slow and her breathing even out. Her arms relaxed around him and he helped rearrange her heavy limbs in a more comfortable position. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed and her jaw clenched tightly.

  
_I have a problem_ , he thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to work on planning and writing longer pieces. Let me know what you think about the direction this fic is taking!
> 
> Fun fact: I actually learned how to fold hospital corners from a nurse. Sadly, I still struggle with them. She was not sexy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s late, I know, but I rewrote some of it and decided to add a third chapter. Don't hate me!
> 
> That chapter will be up soon.

Felicity ambled down the sandy trail, Lucky running a few paces ahead of her and circling back when he got too far. The path was lined on one side with sycamores, their white trunks mottled with peeling green and brown bark.

They were different to the sycamores she was used to, smaller in height with sparser foliage and lower branches. Their leaves were vibrant green, and narrower, dividing into symmetrical pointed lobes, with a waxy surface. The trail was strewn with their fruit, small rough brown balls that were hard under her feet but dissolved into feathery seeds when crushed.

It had been three days since Felicity broke her arm, and she was getting restless. Not having a working right hand had left her inept for the most part, unable to work or do most chores. Oliver had nursed and waited on her, as promised, but even he couldn't figure out a way to scratch her itchy arm through the cast. Watching daytime TV and eating junk food all day while he went out on a few calls and did work around the house, she was bored out of her mind.

Fixing up the house was Oliver’s distraction for the summer. She knew he got restless without a mission for so long, so he threw himself into painting the porch, replacing shingles, installing pipes, and finding new things to repair, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

She knew he would have preferred a house in the suburbs with a state-of-the-art alarm system and security bars on the windows, but this was the house they had chosen. It was old and in disrepair, but it had a big yard and a path behind the back fence that led to the rocky shore and small beach beyond that. 

And they had Lucky. He belonged to one of the neighbours, a young Asian woman who looked way too young to be living here on her own. She went away often, and instead of taking Lucky with her like she used to, she left him with them. He was a sweet dog, a little scrappy and he had obviously been through a lot, but they welcomed him anyway. 

The path curved to the left up ahead, the trees giving way to low shrubbery and clumps of long dry grass, and would emerge at the beach.

She continued straight instead. Lucky barked and returned from where he had run down the path. He trailed slowly behind her now, confused, but remained silent. 

The grass was untended here, and the canopy of leaves hung lower, limbs entangling overhead. Dry fruit dangled precariously on stringy stalks, and green vines climbed tightly on some branches. The prickly weeds and overgrown grass tickled her bare legs. Where the line of wooden fences ended was a copse of aspens, their straight pale trunks standing starkly among the other trees. 

She imagined traversing them and emerging in a wood with tall pines and cedars, and a thick underbrush of tiny white flowers. The trees would grow larger and wider as she walked until she came to a clearing, in the middle of which a giant sequoia loomed. 

She’d look up at its impossible height and circle the great girth of its deeply ridged trunk while songbirds twittered above. Beyond it, she’d find a startling oasis of bright green vegetation and a small spring running through moss-covered boulders. Among the wildflowers growing in the fertile soil, she’d find a hummingbird suckling nectar from an orange poppy. 

In truth, all that lay beyond the trees was a wire fence separating a steep bank. Adjacent to that was a dirt road and zoned lot on the other side. 

She continued on her path. The trees cleared again, and she manoeuvred around the thick brush shielding a rocky ocean bluff thirty feet ahead. It was decidedly not her forest oasis, nor the sandy beach Lucky sought.

Nearing the edge, she sat on the patchy grass and wrapped her arms around her knees. She gazed at the vast blue ocean and cloudless sky above it. The mid morning sun was behind her and its light reflected brilliantly on the surface of the water.  She closed her eyes and inhaled the bracing sea air. She could feel the spray on her skin and hear waves breaking on the rocks below. She could feel Lucky’s warmth under her palm as she stroked his soft fur. His body rose and fell with excited pants and he escaped her reach, running to the brush and back again. 

It was a good place to think.

The town here, like the town where she was born, was built by white settlers seeking treasures in lands beyond. She often wondered what tied them to such a transient place. She pictured wagons and handcarts crossing the Great Divide, armed only with tales of prosperity and their own dreams. Perhaps, after failing to find gold, God, or a bountiful harvest, they returned to the trail to try their luck one last time. Or maybe they tired of their travels, and chose to settle and pave the way for others, turning camps into towns and providing small refuges on those desolate routes. With Native Americans driven out and slaughtered, and the Chinese labor that was earlier exploited now expelled, a space was carved for those drunk on new wealth and the ambition of pioneers.

This town had prospered, but it was long past its heyday. It was not blighted or run down, but had simply yielded to the rise of urban culture. It narrowly avoided the fate of other small towns across America by its proximity to the ocean and the trickle of tourists it attracted. Their house was a prime example of that decline. It was old and its owners had long passed, left empty and roughly escaping abandonment when they bought it. 

From what she could see, this was a quaint small town with a close knit population of families and retirees. Whatever occurred in its peripheries was blissfully ignored. She was sure there was a comforting community with its own history here, but cheap attractions had never appealed to her. She was long used to clandestine enterprises and seedy underbellies dressed as a bustling metropolis. 

Felicity had never owned property before, never had anything tying her to a place before their mission. Even her car was a rental. Buying the house here was new territory for her.

She realised that leaving all their responsibilities behind wasn’t exactly healthy. Oliver was running, just as he ran after the Undertaking, and this time she ran with him. They were alike in that way, and they were enabling each other.

His actions caused long-buried feelings to resurface.

It was a tumultuous year, full of loss and heartache. But regaining what was lost didn’t erase the pain that had accompanied it. Oliver was not the only one suffering. She had faced severe stress for years before she met him, and the trauma related to their vigilantism only exacerbated it. She often spent restless nights in her quiet townhouse, absentmindedly watching old movies before falling asleep with her laptop still open beside her. In the morning, she’d cover her dark circles and sallow cheeks with makeup and steel herself for another day.  

Their trip together and his constant presence made it harder to hide. The reassuring calm permeating her new life helped, and she managed to fake happiness enough to actually feel it.  She could lose herself in him, but the pain was never far behind.

She grit her teeth and bore it. In a brief moment of anger, she thought, _Why can't he do the same?_

Oliver’s kindness and attention was overbearing at times. She let him care for her because it made her feel cherished, and she knew he took comfort in it. He distracted her with sex, and showed her the surprisingly teasing side of him she’d only caught glimpses of before they were together, but he was struggling. 

His nightmares persisted, and he always awoke upon hearing sounds at night. He even assessed each place they went for threats, never letting her enter a room before him. On Wednesday, when he found her in the yard, she felt how his heart raced against her cheek as he held her to his chest tightly, and he hadn’t let her out of his sight for days afterwards. 

He worried about Thea and the team they’d left behind. He felt guilt over how long he’d dedicated himself to the city, and how ultimately easy it was to leave.

That wasn’t what concerned her. She was aware of his guilt, and didn’t expect it or his PTSD to resolve themselves easily - or ever. The most concerning part was that he hid from her. She knew him better than anyone, and had offered him her heart in turn, but he still chose to hide. Oliver knew that she knew and his inaction hurt. Now, they were in limbo, trying desperately to counterbalance each other. 

The hypocrisy in her thoughts was evident to her. Even thinking it, she knew what she had to do. It was no longer a choice. They had reached an impasse, and any hope of a resolution required drastic action. Without it, their relationship would crumble.

Would sharing their troubles ease the pain, or would he have to bear her burden along with his own?

 

• • •

 

Felicity dried the dishes furiously after dinner. She ignored Oliver’s furtive glances, and thankfully he remained silent as he scrubbed and rinsed them next to her. She had insisted on the task, and had figured out a way to hold each dish in the crook of her right arm and dry with the left. She couldn’t keep her mind from racing. Oliver left the pots to soak, and when the last dish was dried and the sink rinsed clean, he removed his rubber gloves and draped them over the faucet.

Oliver took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. Meeting her gaze, he placed a kiss on each hand, and the tenderness of the act sent a shiver through her body. 

“The Big Sleep is on tonight,” he said quietly. "I thought we could watch it together."

“Actually…” she removed her hands from his grasp.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She loved Lauren Bacall and never failed to watch her movies when they were playing, no matter their plans. He dutifully watched with her, and she knew he enjoyed them too. 

“I wanted to take a bath."

He nodded once, looking down. She took his hands this time, and stepped closer until he lifted his head again. 

“You’re welcome to join me,” she said. She had been short with him lately, and he had to have noticed her distance.

She stood on her toes, leaning close and tilting her face up to his. When her smiling lips were a hairsbreadth from his, she whispered, “Race you there."

She ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, feeling rather than hearing his presence behind her as she laughed in delight. He was close, but she managed to enter the bathroom and shut the door just before he crossed the threshold, catching her breath. She heard him halt on the other side, and he hesitated. Opening the door before he could, she leaned against the doorway with one hand on the knob.

“I admit, I had an ulterior motive when I asked you to join me,” she said.

“And what was that?” he looked uncertain, but reflected her teasing tone. 

“I need you to help me shave my legs,” she said.

“What?” he asked.

“I can’t shave my legs,” she repeated. "I need you to help me.” 

He laughed, and she detected a hint of relief in his expression.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and she turned to run the bath. 

"Why didn’t you ask sooner?"

“I figured I’d survive, but it’s getting pretty annoying. To be honest, I can barely wash my hair in the shower with this cast."

She leaned over the tub, adding some lavender bath salts to the water and adjusting the temperature. Oliver’s hands rested on her hips, and when she straightened he lifted her shirt. She raised her arms while he pulled it off. He unhooked her bra and turned her to face him, dragging it down her arms.

With a hand on the centre of her back, he pulled her forward and captured her lips. He sucked her bottom lip between his and she yielded for a moment, sighing into his mouth, before breaking the kiss. 

“Hey! Bath first, mister!” she scolded.

He laughed again, and raised his open hands in surrender. 

She stripped her shorts and underwear off and he followed her lead, leaving his boxers on for the moment. He offered his hand to steady her as she stepped into the scalding water and sat slowly in the large tub. He perched on its edge, shutting off the faucet. Felicity leaned back and closed her eyes, enjoying the heat of the water as it soaked into her skin and loosened her tired muscles. She kept her right arm on the edge of the tub, and Oliver still held her hand, entwining their fingers. 

“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.

She felt his heavy gaze and opened her eyes to look back at him.

“Later,” he replied, “but first...” he gave her a pointed look and waved her pink razor by the handle.

“You’re going to come into the water after it’s all soapy and hairy?” she asked.

“Hairy?” 

“You know, all the little hairs will be floating around in there."

“I’ll survive,” he laughed. 

He stood, stripped off his boxers, and entered the tub in front of her, leaning forward to avoid hitting the faucet at his back. 

She bent her knees to make room for him, and he took hold of her right foot, placing it on his chest. She dug her toes into his abdomen and he gave her a sharp look. She smiled and settled back into the water, keeping all but her head, arm, and the leg in Oliver’s grip submerged.

Oliver ran his hand along her shin, feeling the soft skin and short hairs under his palm. They prickled slightly against his skin, but they weren’t thick or bristly like his own. Reaching behind him for the soap, he created a lather and applied it to her leg. He took far more time than necessary, and Felicity giggled when he soaped the back of her knee and between her toes. 

Taking the razor in one hand and her foot in the other, he slowly glided the blade from ankle to knee with care. Rinsing it in the bathwater, he started again, paying close attention to her skin and the direction of hair growth.

When he was satisfied with his work, he smoothed his hand across her freshly shaved skin one last time and began lathering her other leg. He worked even slower this time, digging his thumbs into her calf and massaging the muscle before picking up the razor again.

Only Oliver could make this act sensual. She giggled at the notion, thinking of all the times she’d fantasised about him alone in her bath back in Starling, and all the baths they’d taken together since.

Her mind was still in turmoil, but she let herself enjoy this brief reprieve.

“Is there anywhere else you want to shave?” he asked when he was done.

She giggled again, “No."

“Are you sure?"

“Yes."

“Turn around,” he said. 

She complied with his help, and he threaded his fingers through her hair before reaching for the measuring jug she used in the bath. 

“Oliver,” she said, stopping him with a hand on his thigh, “You can’t wash my hair with this water."

“Why not?” he asked.

She took the jug from his grasp and scooped some of the bath water out, then poured it on his hand. A few soap suds dispersed, and under them were some of the hairs he had just shaved from her legs. 

“Oh."

“I told you. Hairy water." 

He nodded bashfully and repeated, “Hairy water." 

“Let’s just rinse off in the shower,” she said.

Climbing out of the bath, Felicity smothered a laugh as she assessed her legs. He’d done an excellent job on her lower legs, but completely neglected her thighs.  

She agreed to a quick wash of her hair in the shower and let him dry her off when they stepped out. Dressed in pyjamas and ready for bed, she crawled under the cool sheets.  

She sighed as she rubbed her smooth legs together under the covers. Oliver opened the window a crack, knowing she liked the fresh air while she slept, and climbed into bed behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and moulded his body to hers, entangling their legs. 

“This is heaven,” she sighed.

The guilt of what she was avoiding weighed heavily on her mind as she slipped into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this chapter is tinged with melancholy on Felicity’s part. 
> 
> Few can go through the amount of loss and trauma she has without lasting consequences. We saw in 3x05 that part of her image and sunny disposition is a front, and I think the worlds she's drawn to expose that.
> 
> Helping a loved one when you yourself are struggling to survive can create an impossible situation. 
> 
> Also, Oliver has clearly never shaved in the bath before. Tsk, tsk!


End file.
